


I'll Break Them Down, No Mercy Shown - July/August 1996

by alesuund



Series: everyone's got stuff, really. [2]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesuund/pseuds/alesuund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she's the girl of his dreams and this revelation comes in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Break Them Down, No Mercy Shown - July/August 1996

He wasn’t looking but she found him anyway. It was in the summer and he had steeled himself to her, just like he did to every new person who tried to shoulder their way into his life now. She was an old friend of Chloe’s and he hardly spoke to her, couldn’t even be bothered to learn her name really (May, was it?), let alone pay any attention to her, but then she stole his 20p and defied him in front of the entire gang. She might as well have slapped him, took his face by the jaw and screamed “NOTICE ME” at him. He would never admit it but it rattled him a little bit (Finn Nelson didn’t get rattled). He didn’t get her and she didn’t seem to like him very much, which was fine by him, but she had his attention now, even if he tried to pretend otherwise.  
  
She liked music more than any other Stamford girl he’d met. Her love for and knowledge about music rivaled his own and she knew her shit, wouldn’t hesitate to tell you what she thought about this singer or that band and it made him want to tear his hair out sometimes, being constantly challenged by her. But sometimes after a few pints she would get on these passionate sermons about Boyzone and mainstream music and where Jonny Greenwood sat on the list of modern British guitar players and he would become fixated on her face, on her mouth, on the fire in her eyes, and something else began to ignite in him.

Once, he caught some scumfuck hoodlums taking the piss out of her outside the chippy, and that slow burn in his chest carried like brush-fire through his arm and he made his point with his fist. She was alright, but he could tell from the look in her eye that though she’d been terrorized on the street by strangers more times than she could count, nobody had ever defended her before. He couldn’t remember the last time he had raised his voice like that to anybody—maybe he never had.  
  
It wasn’t until after Knebworth and he’d gotten in late, laid down in bed with Joy Division on the turntable and a spliff in his hand when the dull ache in his chest began to match the throbbing of his knuckles. Seeing Oasis at Knebworth was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience, an historic event even, and he should have been truly stoked to say that he was there. Instead he just felt restless, unsettled, and he couldn’t shrug it off.

The truth, and it began to settle in to his bones just as he was dozing off, was that he’d spent the weekend piss-drunk and overstimulated with a handful of his best mates and one hundred thousand other people at the gig of the fucking century, and it should have been perfect. It should have been, but it wasn’t, because there was only one other person Finn thought could truly appreciate the experience the way he had, and she hadn’t been there with him.

He liked her. He really fucking liked her.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from new order's ceremony.


End file.
